Jabberwock
by Alias Blackclaw
Summary: Wesker, Jill, Chris. When stuff gets nuts. Last Story you shall see from me here.


_**FRANTIC A/N**_

**_The purge is coming for me- no doubt, because I'm a terrible, terrible woman and only write smut. SO before I am slaughtered by a fanfiction staff member, I'm going to throw this up._**

**_I'm moving to tumblr and AO3 _**

**_the link shall be on my profile. SO RUN, MY POOR FELLOWS._**

_TAKE YOUR PORN AND RUN._

_Actual A/N_

_This was written as a dare for Sadlittletiger._

_Ily, but you cray-cray._

_I can't write this, SO ENJOY IT_

_Oh by the way, it is porn._

_Jabberwocky_

She couldn't sleep. They said she couldn't sleep.

They stared at her; they didn't know what to do. She was surrounded.

She couldn't sleep because she wouldn't wake up the next time. She couldn't sleep until her blood was clean.

They didn't know when that would be.

Or if it would be.

Jill stood and walked right out the door.

"Jill?"

Chris gaped. She wound up on instinct to wipe the pitying expression off, and punched him square in the jaw.

His reeling and tumbling only made her feel tired.

She walked out saying absolutely nothing.

She couldn't sleep, but god she wanted to.

Her head was sore, her skull screamed for her to shut down.

'It's only day one.' she reasoned.

Her body protested, muscles rooted to the chilled bath water.

"Fuck day one."

Growling, stumbling to find her footing, falling out.

Furious and hissing and spitting the entire way down.

She whined at the sound, wet body, hard floor.

A nasty, solid smack.

She heard feet on the steps and scraped her way to the counter.

Heroic as ever, Chris bursting in the door was enough to make her flush.

Naked, tired, bombshell blonde. Fucking perfect.

"Yeah sure, take the time to stare." she mutters.

He did.

"Are you okay?"

Lamely.

She glares at him and rubs her hip, a colorful red blot of color. "Awake and alert."

He sighs and goes to throw her a towel but she gives him a glare.

Dead Jill died heroicaly or impulsively.

Alive Jill lived like the world was against her.

Angry, gorgeous, colorless Valentine.

Chris left the apartment with that image pressed into a mental picture.

Cold, naked, completely flawless.

Completely different from the Valentine he once knew.

He drove the truck to the nearest local park and hid.

And raged.

A selfish brat wanting what was his.

What he was responsible for saving.

She really should be grateful.

That beautiful gorgeous bitch.

He doesn't think twice about pulling on the band of his pants.

And thinks even less after.

She peruses through Claire's closet while it's dark.

Day Two had begun two hours ago, the immediate exhaustion became pseudo-energy.

She was shaking.

She had to do something.

So she grabbed them, leather slacks.

Leather top tied at the neck.

She looks at herself and does a turn, and decides it's a god-awful nightmare.

She looks like him.

Exactly like him.

"Time to go disgrace it." she mutters to herself in the mirror, and her reflection sneers.

She knows she's being followed as she walks.

It's not some delusion, there are other signs.

Footsteps, shadows.

She doesn't really care.

She's past that point- she's fucking tired.

Of everything.

"Come on out." she hisses, feral.

Nothing answers her, so she keeps walking, leading the way.

Her knuckles tighten into fists and her nails cut her palms.

Bass pounding, heart hurting.

Head reeling.

She hisses in the scent of hundreds of chemicals and grins.

Feels her blood boil in reaction.

Like she's on fire.

"Give me that." she growls, presses up against the guy, hisses.

Her eyes glow under black lights.

He groans, she pins him to the sweaty, sticky wall. Pushes her hips into him.

Stay awake.

Stay alive.

Take the red pill.

Chase the white rabbit.

A crumbling world, a shamanistic place.

Awake, alive, alert, breathing...

Every breath making her shake and feel the space.

She sways, trips, feels her eyes touched by something otherworldly.

She can't blink, she stares into the ceiling.

Jill smiles, her eyes glow.

She's invincible.

She bares her teeth and whips around fast, marches into the unending mass of bodies.

something grabs her arm, something as fast as she felt.

She hissed, turned, smiled, body disappearing with every flash of the strobes; a cat dressed in black with glowing eyes.

Her body jerks and shivers when she moves, terrifying.

"So I'm dead." she laughs, gives her nightmare a look.

Her blood is on fire, she's gritting her teeth into dust, and she has to keep moving.

Moving forward.

Wesker glares, disgusted.

His trophy was a chemical disaster.

She walks right into him and grabs him.

She smells like sweat and sex, it's overpowering.

Sloppy, shaking nails on his throat, sloppy lips.

He's here to take her back- she's crawling on him like a spider.

"I have to stay awake." she moans, into his skin, biting him, seducing him.

Drugged scent a biological weapon, killing him too.

"I have to keep moving." she says.

He's back up against a railing, he can hardly see.

Or think.

"Keep moving."

A back alley, so cliché, so fitting.

He kissed her, filled his senses; drank in her lips.

Indulging in a dark fantasy.

She pants through her nose, on fire, thrashing around, skull smashed between a brick wall and his lips.

Thousands of things at once. Everything at once, everything moving.

She slashes her claws right up his back and screams into his mouth.

He bites into the flesh of her lips.

He balances her thighs on his hips and slams into her, rages into her.

Howls and pushes into her whip-like body.

Screaming his defeat away with Jill sliding over his clothes.

Day Two, 2 PM.

She gets home and she can hardly walk.

She looks like she's been through a trash compacter and lived.

"Jill, what the fuck happened? Where the hell did you go?"

She looks at her clothes, missing half of a pantleg, top torn to shreds. She's covered in bruises- fat welts on her arms.

Shaking so violently that it terrifies him.

"Can... I have some coffee?" she mutters, brushes right past him.

He looks at his empty hands as if they held the answers he didn't.

She turns her back to him and sits, painfully.

Sucking marks on her neck, claws on her lower back.

His entire body sinks into the floor, a puddle of disappointment.

She catches him staring; she wheels around in her seat and stares back.

He glares first and stomps up the stairs, his damsel defiled.

His most precious award.

There's a knock at his bedroom door before it opens.

She doesn't wait for him to wake up fully.

Making the peace had no time to wait.

She had no time to wait, she had to keep moving.

"Chris." she pleads.

Her voice is hoarse, scratchy and lethargic.

She crawls over him, limbs climbing over his muscles.

Wet limbs.

He wakes up when he feels cold water falling over his cheeks.

She peels the bedcover off his chest and drips all over him, fresh from the shower.

Her eyes glow, pupils dilated, almost eclipsing the iris.

A possessed possession.

She lowers her body, breasts heavy, nipples hard through his messy t-shirt.

"I'm sorry." She says, eyes deep- sightless.

He sits up, he's met with full lips, cracked and sore and hungry, moving fast.

Almost panicked, still shaking like she's going to shatter any second.

She digs under his shirt with her nails; he rubs her cold skin warm, traces the wet line of her spine and takes handfuls of her ass.

He can't help it, he adores her, craves her, he's hard before she manages to pull the shirt off his head, and weeping by the time she bites the seam of his hip.

And moaning into her mouth when she spreads her thighs over his legs, knees digging into his muscle, all that thick muscle…

She balances carefully and slides him in, groaning, waking up, spilling fluids over his thighs.

Day three he tells her later that he loves her, but she's too busy wondering if she's honestly dying.

They've been at it all night, her muscles are burning too badly to move.

She's assuming her back fell off because that's what it feels like.

It feels like everything is imploding inside, like everything in her body is boiling up and spilling out through her pores.

Chris is gone and she can't remember where he went; she spills over the side of the couch onto the carpeted floor, and she can't get up.

"Come… on." She grinds out, palms to the floor, pushing.

She can rest when she's dead.

She can't get up.

Might as well _be dead._

She hears footsteps as her eyes shut.

"Jill."

She opens her eyes and looks up from her peripheral, her heart jumps through her ribs, she feels it pulse.

Wesker looms over her, an inky black stain in the blurry world.

"Shit." she sighs, but that is all. Not one attempt to move.

Her body needs sleep. She needs to fucking sleep.

He grabs her by the shoulder and lifts her like she's weightless.

"Get up."

She wishes she could, and she tries.

Her eyes feel glued shut and impossible.

"Get _up._"

"I'm up." She sighs, still half unconscious.

He drags her into her bathroom and throws her into a freezing shower, clothes and all.

She screams like he's killing her.

He's not feeling merciful.

"Fuck, stop!" she shrieks, scrambling to get out, but he pushes her back and holds her under the spray.

"Are you awake?" he growls.

"I'm awake!"

He changes the temperature and watches her relax, shocked wide-awake.

It's a problem; he can hear her failing health and practically taste her lethargy.

She still smelled like poison.

"You can… leave, you know." She mutters.

He stood over her and watched, flashing a fanged smile while the water sweeps the grime away.

His competition nullified.

She groans because he's not leaving.

Then again, she didn't think he would.

He just smirks and watches her wash.

This really should be reason to panic, but she's not.

He's probably been following her for a while, if he wanted to kill her, he would have.

She fails to panic when he continues to follow her to her makeshift room, lounging at the threshold, tapping his foot.

Trust him to find expensive boots on the fly.

_Tap, tap, tap._

She's just annoyed at this point, and really fucking tired.

"Go away." She growls out and he seems to think it's funny.

She can't really see him straight if he tries.

"No." He sighs. "You don't want to fall asleep, do you?"

She growls. "I fucking do."

"You'll die, Jill." He laughs as if he's won.

"Maybe I'd be a lot less miserable dead?"

She sounds as convincing as she feels, and that is not at all.

Wesker sneers and creeps over to her side, a disjointed blur. "One more day, Valentine."

The claws that catch snared her shoulders and she sighed.

"Stay awake for me, Jill."

His teeth sunk into her neck and she growled.

_Beware the jaws that bite._

"_Keep moving_." His hiss in her head was burning.

The hand between her legs was worse.

Chris came home in good humor, toting food in bags.

He was smiling until he turned the corner.

Smiling until he saw the person in the kitchen.

Wesker, holding Jill's head by the sink, splashing water into her eyes.

"Get up, Jill!"

_Wake up Alice!_

All the cans crashed to the floor, Chris roared and charged without a single thought.

His fist met the rock surface of Wesker's jaw, and surprisingly the monster stumbled.

Jill slipped on the counter, cracked her head on the faucet and yelped, started.

Wesker nearly spat fire and jumped at him, rammed him right into the wall before he could blink.

"Fuck." Was all she could say before she stood, nearly fell down.

Tired, more exhausted than she could ever be; her head felt like it wasn't there….

"Knock it off…" she groaned, grabbing the counter.

She heard the solid smacks of muscle and knuckles and a sudden burst of inspiration finds her.

She walks to where they're rolling, blood spouting after every solid hit, and pulls back her foot.

She manages to kick both of them across the face and probably breaks Chris's nose.

They stop moving.

She doesn't, she sways and spits "fuck you both."

They look at each other and she raises her foot again before either bloody man decides to throw a punch.

She kicks them again, weakly.

They scramble. Wesker grabs her leg and threatens to tear it off.

Chris punches him again and stains their carpet.

Jill decides that she's had enough and is too tired for this shit.

She fell down on top of them and just stayed there.

They both stared.

Wesker kicked Chris away and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her awake. "Wake up. Wake up, Jill!"

_Get out of Wonderland._

Chris punched him again and nursed his bleeding nose.

Wesker kicked him in the face with the entire sole of his boot.

"Stay awake!"

Jill drifted off.

He punched Chris for good measure. "She'll die if she sleeps, do you understand that?"

Chris didn't. And he wouldn't.

Wesker kicked him again, away, kissed her, bit her lips and tore them, and she cried.

Her limbs twitched and she batted him away.

Chris growled, sick, bleeding, watching this in a crumpled mess.

His rage pushed him to attack; he barreled into him, ripped through his cheek with his knuckles.

Jill rolled onto her stomach and crashed into them, blinked wearily as they stared at her… again.

"Can we make this quick?" She mutters.

Her eyes were pits, unseeing, holes in her head.

_Sucking them into a place that made no sense._

"I'm really… tired." She sighs, as if they weren't already piles of gore.

She squirms on top of them, looks at them both.

They have no idea how to respond but her head lolls.

Wesker growls and shakes her again, pulls on her shoulder.

Chris is ready to punch him again.

Jill just lies on top of them both.

The monster kisses her before her eyes close, thin lips bloodlaced and teeth catching.

Chris pushes him away, fights him and grabs her.

Kisses her himself _because he knew best_.

Wesker jams his hand so far into his throat that he nearly picks him up.

"Get off her Redfield."

_Mine._

Jill drawls out something along the lines of "this is stupid" and pushes on Wesker's arm, getting to her feet and winding her arms to stay standing.

They watch her.

"I'm going to go die." She groans, and schleps out of the room.

They look at each other, her gone.

And race for the stairs.

Hitting and punching and fighting.

Clawing through each other to get to the top.

To her, the ultimate prize.

Wesker has a giant gash on his face, open and weeping, Chris is a massive bruise with legs and bloody knuckles.

They burst into her room in a knot, hissing and spitting.

She jumps and stares at them.

Wesker looks at him and dives for her, blurry, grabbing her by the neck.

"She's mine." He hisses, verbalizing it, squinting with one good eye.

She clearly doesn't give a shit who wins.

"Hell no." came the response. He jumps through Jill to tackle Wesker.

They all fall to the floor and Jill groans.

She decides they've pined enough and kisses the man under her, crushed by Chris at her back.

Wesker grins.

Until she twists around and kisses Chris too.

And waits.

Chris is the first to speak. "No."

Wesker sneers at him and drapes his long fingers over her hips. "Good girl."

She sighs. "Don't care."

"What?" Chris says.

Jill shrugs and seems to get rather cozy in Wesker's hands.

Falling asleep.

Wesker shakes her shoulders and grins through a kiss to her neck. "Wake up, Jill."

Chris glares at him. "Hell no. I won't let you-"

Jill snaps. "Just fucking kiss me before I'm dead."

Her dirty mouth inspires them both.

They have to keep her awake.

She fell asleep and they both panicked.

Practically bit her to death to wake her right up.

They hated being like this near each other.

Kissing her together, covering her in bites.

But it worked, she stayed awake, she whimpered.

They worked together.

Wesker drew patterns on her with his tongue.

She tasted like poison, he drank her skin in.

Chris held up her limp arms and kissed her.

Loved her.

While the monster tasted her, ate her alive.

Jill whined when he licked over her thighs.

Chris winced but she hissed "Keep Moving."

They obeyed her.

She didn't care who was between her thighs and who was holding her up.

Wesker did. He bit into her neck at the back, dug his nails into her stomach.

Chris got to fuck her, he stood idle.

He didn't care.

Keep her awake, right?

He broke their kiss with his fingers and she wet them.

He was dripping already, drunk on the scent.

He traced the curve of her ass and growled.

She growled back and crawled further up Chris's body.

He sneers and stretches her.

Feels Chris riding the hell out of her and hates it.

His first thrust makes her bleed and forces them all against the wall, he bites her shoulder to keep himself distracted.

She lets out a sound and slices the wallpaper off with her nails, digs wounds into it.

Chris groans at the force.

"Keep moving." She cries.

Doesn't care if it's Wesker or Chris.

She's awake.

She moans, her nerves convulse on themselves.

Awake, alive, euphoric.

"Keep moving." She growls, strains at their climax.

And laughs, because she knows they won't stop.


End file.
